EFS Normandy: Beneath the Face of Saturn
by Steel Magnolia
Summary: The EFS Normandy fights the pirate hordes at the moons of Saturn. Dr. Rhodes is captured. Rated PG-13 for violence and adult situations.
1. Prologue

Author Note: This was written about 1998. I was involved with a group of people on-line reminiscing about a sci-fi cartoon called Exosquad and we decided to make our own ship and characters. Most of the characters in this story aren't mine, and the story line came from multiple people, although this is mostly told from my character's point of view. 

For those not familiar with Exosquad: The background to this story is that the Homeworlds government (Earth, Mars, and Venus) has sent the entire space fleet to try and destroy the pirate menace that has been plaguing mining in the asteroid belt. A race of genetically engineered slaves called Neo Sapiens are exploiting the pirate threat to lure the Fleet away so that they can stage an uprising and take over the Homeworlds. This story takes place before the uprising. 

The flagship of the fleet is the EFS _Resolute_. The EFS _Normandy_ is the small frigate we created. E-frames are military ships that look like variations on the big robotic loader that Ripley used to battle the Queen alien in Aliens. Pilots use both manual and cybernetic controls.

This is a sequel to "First Battle", but it is not necessary to read the other first.

Beneath the Face of Saturn – Prologue

--------------------------------

Lt. Crow Mengele, XO of the Sierra Three jumptroop platoon, whistled appreciatively. "You gotta love a woman in uniform," he told his two companions. "Or out," he grinned, leering comically at the blonde e-frame pilot walking past their table in the mess hall. Dirk Dagger gave a bark of laughter. Robert Preston merely rolled his eyes, concentrating intently on his food. Crow watched intently for the expected response. 

            The pilot, Trooper Nicole Montgomery, turned with outrage evident in the stiff lines of her body. Her brown eyes burned with anger and indignation. Her friend and closest confidante, Ensign Amy Hiatt, hurriedly caught up with her and laid a hand on the blonde's arm. 

"Take it easy, Nikki," Amy warned lightly. She shot the blue-haired jumptrooper a venomous look on her friend's behalf.  "He's not worth it," She raked him up and down with a pointed stare.  "Unless he's got more than he's showing right now." Color rose and faded on the e-frame pilot's pale cheeks. 

Amy tugged at her friend's arm. "Come on, let's go find a seat." She glanced quickly around the mess hall, and spotted two men sitting nearby. "Look, there's Elan and Lt. O'Muirdagh," she said with relief as she noticed their squadron mate and XO.

            "This has nothing to do with David Wells," Elan Tedronai's voice was as cold as the untouched food on his plate. His XO Ratislav O'Muirdagh sat across the table from him and regarded him impassively with dark green eyes, arms folded across his chest. Both looked up, startled, when Amy gave a sigh of relief and plopped her plate down with a metal thud.

            "Come on, ladies," Crow called over to them, "there's plenty of room for you to sit here." He shoved Dirk's chair sideways with a booted foot. There was a new gleam in his eye. "Don't tell me you would prefer those lazy flyboys over there." His voice carried well, and Tedronai and O'Muirdagh bristled at the comment. Crow grinned without humor. THIS was what he had been itching for.

            "Somebody remind me why we give these apes a ride on our boat?" Ratislav growled. "They're more trouble than they're worth."

            "Perhaps it would be best if we jettisoned them with the rest of the refuse," Elan added. He and Ratislav exchanged a rare look of commiseration.

            "Definitely," Nikki said, glaring at the jumptroopers. Amy chuckled.

            "I don't know," she said. "They're kind of cute, in a brutish, Neanderthal sort of way."

            "Hey, I heard that slur on my good character," Crow called out. His chair scraped against the metal deck as he pushed back from the table and stood. He sauntered over to the table and leaned down between the two women.  "Now, whenever you get tired of men who like it fast, you just let me know."

            "That's just about enough," Ratislav bit out. Both he and Elan surged to their feet. Ratislav shot Elan a look. "I outrank you," he reminded him. Elan bowed ironically. Ratislav turned to face the tall, lanky jumptrooper, his green eyes narrowed in anger. Crow tossed his head, flinging his shoulder-length blue bangs back from his face. His surgically altered eyes were a flat white.

            "All right, gentlemen," Nikki slapped her hands on the table and stood.  "That's enough testosterone for one meal." Crow grinned down at her, enjoying the way her strawberry blonde hair seemed to crackle around her head and her brown eyes snapped with anger.

            She narrowed her eyes at him. "I could have you up for harassment, Lieutenant, but you're not worth my time." She moved to leave.

            "Has anybody ever told you you're beautiful when you're angry?" Crow asked, catching her arm. Nikki snarled. She jerked her arm from his grasp, using the momentum to whirl around and deliver a beautiful left hook just as O'Muirdagh launched himself at the jumptrooper.

            Crow rolled with the punch, avoiding the worst of the blow, but was caught square on by Ratislav's attack. The two men crashed back against the table, sending the metal dishes clattering to the deck. They fell off the table, each rolling to his feet in a flash, crouched down with arms held up loose and limber for defense.

            Crow's tongue darted out and tasted blood on his lip. He grinned and slashed a sidelong glance at Nikki. "And here I thought the only thing you'd break is my heart," he said.

            Ratislav bared his teeth in a feral grin. "I should have left you for her. She'd do more damage then me, I think." He saw the two jumptroopers and Elan hovering out of the corner of his eye. "He's mine," he warned.

            "As you wish," Elan said. He looked at the two jumptroopers. "I will not interfere," he told Ratislav. Robert Preston merely raised a brow and both he and Dirk Dagger stood calmly, confident in their own XO.

            Nikki threw a chair at the two combatants. "Stop it!" she cried.  Ratislav deflected it with an arm, and they continued to circle each other warily, looking for an opening. She growled in frustration, not wanting to draw a weapon and escalate the situation.

            Amy glanced around. Nobody else seemed inclined to stop the fight.  She winced as Crow closed with Ratislav, and she heard the dull thud of fist meeting flesh. As she dashed for the kitchen there was a flurry of blows before the smaller Ratislav was able to use his lower center of gravity to swing Crow over his hip. The jumptrooper flipped midair and managed to gain his footing, spinning to leap back at the pilot. The two of them locked together, grappling for a hold.

            "Give it up, flyboy," Crow grunted. His white eyes gleamed earily.  Ratislav head-butted him, both of them reeling from the force. They clashed again, and seemed locked together until Ratislav suddenly flew backwards to slam against the fallen chair. Crow laughed in triumph and advanced on the fallen pilot. Then he too felt himself picked up and thrown aside. He crashed hard against a table and gasped as the edge caught him hard in the ribs.

            Cookie's huge bulk shadowed them both. The balding cook folded his massive arms across his chest, glaring at them both. His prosthetic left leg gleamed dully in the ship's light. A white apron stretched across his broad body.  Somehow it didn't detract from the menace in his stance.

            "Does this look like a bar to you two jackheads?" he rumbled.  Piercing grey eyes nailed the two troopers until they both slowly shook their heads. "Then what are you doing brawling over dinner? This is my mess, not a gym... or a meat market." Crow flushed. "You kids need to learn to save your energy for the real enemy. Now get up and shake hands or else I'll make sure you can't."

            Ratislav eased carefully to his feet, noting with satisfaction that Crow was moving equally as slowly. They eyed each other warily. Crow glanced at the cook and his mouth twitched. "Guess I'd better shake your hand before he decides to put too much salt in our soup tomorrow." He extended his hand.  Ratislav looked at it as though it were a snake he'd like to blast before grabbing it in a strangle hold. The two men struggled not to show any pain as they felt bones grind together. Cookie grunted in disgust and turned back to the kitchen.

            "By the way," the cook called over his shoulder, "Don't worry about that salt in your soup." Crow grinned. "You're both on quick meals for a week." Ratislav pulled his hand away and snarled at the jumptrooper before stalking away.

            Nikki caught his arm. "I didn't need your help," she said. "But thanks anyways." Ratislav looked at her.

            "I know you can fight your own battles," he told her. "That wasn't for you."

            "Ladies," Elan pulled out a chair for Amy. "Care to finish dinner?"  She smiled at him and sat, sighing with relief. She smiled more broadly when she found her food still warm. Cookie's seafood linguini.... She was interrupted by the First Officer's voice.

            "All hands, general quarters. The Fleet has arrived at the moons of Saturn."

---------------------


	2. Chapter 1

Beneath the Face of Saturn:  Chapter 1

There was no sensation of movement as the EFS _Normandy_ sped silently through the void toward Enceladus, Saturn's eighth moon.  The ship's clean lines were interrupted by the bristling of weaponry and scanner arrays.  Its engines were silent, having already done their work of boosting the ship on its path to Saturn orbit.  Lights twinkled here and there from viewports, but were few and far between.  The _Normandy_ was a frigate, a ship of war.  Not a luxurious cruise ship lazily coasting between the homeworlds.

Karen paused at one of the ports, taking a moment to look outside.  She couldn't see Enceladus, of course, but other bright dots scattered the starfield.  If she pressed her face to the plastisteel and looked forward, she could see the huge bulk of the gassy giant Saturn looming before them.  A vague remembrance of astronomy floated through her mind.  She remembered Dr. Livingston lecturing her Exofleet prep school class that Saturn, for all its girth, had a specific gravity less than water.  If there were an ocean big enough, it would float.  For some reason that had struck a younger Karen as amusing.

"All hands, battle stations."  The XO's voice jarred her from her thoughts.   She thought wistfully of seafood linguini, thick with a creamy alfredo sauce and flavored with whatever Cookie used to work his magic.  Her stomach growled and she forced herself to push such fantasies out of her head and head for sickbay.

"How are we doing in here?" she asked as the doors hissed shut behind her.  Karen moved quickly to the main console and scanned the e-frame and jumptroop flight rosters for anybody trying to slip through medical clearance.  Sometimes the macho types had selective hearing when it came to their flight status.  She cursed softly and keyed in a patch to the Gamma squad comm link.  

"Lt. Tedronai, this is Lt. Rhodes," she growled.  "I sure hope you're just performing maintenance on that e-frame you're jacked into."

            "Lt. Rhodes," he acknowledged.  His cockpit recorder sent a view of his face, distracted as he performed the pre-flight checklist.  "Thank you for your concern, but I am fine.  There is no need to keep me from this battle."

"Lt. Tedronai, you have only been out of my sick bay for two days.  You are recovering from a broken femur and massive blood loss, and you are not cleared for flight duty."  Elan looked at her for the first time.  His face was set and impassive.

"Lt. Rhodes, I have fought in worse condition in the past.  You have mended my broken leg and I thank you for that.  I think that…"

"I don't care what you think, Lieutenant," Karen interrupted.  "I am the acting Medical Officer on this boat, and until they send somebody who outranks me I will continue to discharge the duties incumbent on this position as I see fit.  In pilot's terms, that means what I say goes and not even the Captain can authorize you to fly without my approval."  Her eyes narrowed.  "And you are most emphatically not cleared for flight duty."

"Doc, I feel fine," he retorted.  Karen could see the mutiny in his eyes and knew that he was close to having "communication difficulties."  She sighed.

"Elan, I admire your bravery and your loyalty to your squad," she said.  "I know that everything in you protests them going on a mission without you."  Relief crossed his face.  "However," she continued, "it is my job to make sure that the fighting force of this ship is able to fight to the best of their abilities.  I may have bonded the fragments together but your leg is still broken, Elan.  It will take weeks to heal fully.  Right now it's so fragile that if you took even a glancing blow to your frame and got knocked around, it would break again."  

She leaned forward, her face earnest.  "Elan, how would you feel if you let one of your squadmates down because you weren't 100%.  This is a ground assault.  They don't need you risking yourself on this."

Elan regarded her silently a moment, then sighed.  Karen blew out a breath of relief as she saw the e-frame power down.

"Do you want me to tell Lt. Hobbes?" she asked.

Elan shook his head.  "No, I'll talk to him."  

Karen could just imagine the blasting she was about to get from the e-frame jockeys.  She couldn't let it bother her, but sometimes she resented having to play the bad guy.  "Rhodes out."

--------------------------------

Elan scowled and muttered about the vagaries of meddling doctors as he released his harness and jumped out of his Spy/Logistics e-frame.  He grimaced slightly as a twinge of pain coursed through his thigh.  Well, maybe…

"Hey, Hobbes," he called out.  Lt. Commander Hobbes turned from his inspection and watched the youth walking toward him.  

"What's up, Elan?" he asked.  "We've got about ten before we're on."  He ducked back under his modified Police Enforcer e-frame and checked the gaskets along the arm joint.  "Darn thing's been giving me grief for the past week.  Guess I'd better get Kristin to check it out again."

"I'm not going, Hobbes," Elan said.  Hobbes paused and peered up at him from behind the gun turret.  

"Oh, really?" Hobbes said noncommittally.  Elan ducked beneath and followed him to the other side.  "And why is that?"

"The Medical Officer won't give me flight clearance because of my leg.  It's fine," he added with only a trace of resentment.  "But she just booted me out of my frame."

Hobbes pursed his mouth glanced upward, trying to place a face and name to the position.  "Huh," he grunted.  "Yeah, she's young, and no combat experience.  Probably hasn't learned a middle ground yet."  He looked at Elan.  "There's nothing that I can do right now," he said.  "But I'll talk to her after the mission."  He thumped Elan on the thigh and arched a brow when he yelped.  "And maybe I'll have a talk with you as well."

Elan stalked from the flight bay, passing Lt. Kristin O'Connor's Field Repair e-frame without a word.  She paused her pre-flight checklist and whistled softly.  "Well now, that boyo's got a bee in his bonnet, I'm thinking."  Her native Ireland could be heard in the soft lilt of her voice and seen in her auburn red hair and mist grey eyes.

"Lt. Hobbes," she radioed.  "And what would be the problem with Elan?"

She saw Hobbes scramble into his e-frame and jack up.  "He's been pulled from the mission.  Not cleared by Medical yet."  She nodded and glanced up toward the observation window.  Elan stood there, arms crossed.  She knew he wouldn't budge until they returned.

Nicole Montgomery ran her hand along the side of her Exofighter affectionately.  She checked the hoses and the weapons mountings one last time and then climbed up the side.  She settled herself into the cockpit, feeling it wrap around her like a glove.  Excitement skittered along her spine.  

"Nikki," a voice called out from the ground.  She sighed and scrambled up to kneel in her seat, leaning over the edge of the cockpit.  She scowled.  Crow stood there, dressed in his environmental suit and light body armor, holding his helmet in his hand.  His blue shoulder length bangs were bound back with a thong, contrasting with the pale blonde of his hair.   His surgically altered eyes were completely white without iris or pupil.  It was difficult to see the awkwardly endearing boy she used to know in the tall lean man standing by her landing gear.

"What do you want, Crow?" she asked coolly.

"I just wanted to…"  He paused.  "About what happened in the mess…"  Nikki arched a brow.  Crow frowned in consternation, fumbling for words.  He looked up at her, feeling like Romeo at Juliet's balcony.  The thought made him scowl.

"Oh, just say it, Crow," she said impatiently. 

"I'm sorry," he bit out.  Nikki suppressed a smile.

"Now that wasn't so hard, now was it?" she asked sweetly.  "See?  Even grunts can be taught manners."  He narrowed his eyes at her.

"It wouldn't have been so hard if I didn't already know you would say something like that," he retorted.  He took in her strawberry blonde hair and deep brown eyes.  "You know," he added thoughtfully, "you might actually be kind of cute if you weren't such a bitch."

Nikki flushed.  "Yeah, well you'd still be a freak even if you weren't such an ass."

"Fine," he growled.  "You can't say I didn't apologize."

"Yes, you did," she answered, sliding back down into her seat.  She called out to him, "And now you have something else to apologize for."  She slapped the controls and the canopy hummed down, sealing with a hiss.  

Crow kicked the landing gear once in frustration.  Somehow it always ended up this way.  He turned on his heel and stalked back to his platoon, gathering at the base of the jumpship.  Their capsules lay waiting for them, opened up like so many cans. 

Crow began to shake as he approached.  He always got the shakes before a drop.  Not from fear, more like a hunting dog poised and trembling with eagerness before being released.  He slapped Dirk on the back and checked the straps on Robert Preston's rocket pack.  Unholy whooped and high-fived him.

"Getting pumped up, man!"  Unholy grinned.  "This time it's our show.  None of that shooting from a distance stuff."  He knelt down and mimed firing his blaster.  "Up close and personal, just the way I like it."  Crow grinned.  

Captain Jose whistled at them.  "Fall in!"

The troops fell into ranks like a well-oiled machine.  Tom Jose looked them over, appreciating the sheer physical presence of his platoon.  From huge Robert Preston to tiny Olivia Montrose, every last man and woman was in prime fighting condition.  Equipped with rocketpacks strapped to their backs and armed only with a plasma rifle each, they were mobile and fast and very, very dangerous.   Tom grinned.

"Alright, you apes.  Wanta live forever?" he yelled.

"No, sir!" they thundered.

"Then let's drop!"  He ordered.

"HOO-RAH!!"  

Quickly they broke ranks and climbed into their capsules.  The hatches closed one by one as each platoon member was strapped in.  At the last moment of the drop the harness would retract, allowing instant maneuverability when the capsule opened on the surface.  If it made it to the surface.   

Trooper Robert Preston braced himself in his harness as he felt the rumble of the dropship's engines all around him.  He knew the pilot - it would be a bumpy ride.  He liked that.  It meant they got into position earlier and decreased the chance that the dropship would be hit while he was stuck in this steel coffin.

Besides, it meant he had less time to wait.  That was the worst.  The waiting, alone with your thoughts, waiting for his capsule to get hit at any moment.  Sure, the dropship sent out a scrambler burst at the drop to confuse enemy radar, but all it took was one gunner with a good eye to do some serious damage to the platoon.  Still, it was the best way to deploy the troops.  The recall shuttles were smaller and more maneuverable, but as a trooper Robert didn't want them exposed to danger any more than they had to be.  They were his ticket home, his lifeline.  Nothing was sweeter than the sound of the recall signal.

Jason Morris sealed the cockpit of his Reconnaissance e-frame and watched the dropship ease out of the launchbay.  He was covering them for this mission, and was itching to follow.  He could picture the dropship in his mind, blazing toward the moon full throttle and then braking sharply, releasing the capsules like so much confetti.  He wanted to be there, to keep an eye out for the platoon while it was vulnerable.  Other squads were already launched and ready to assist, but this was HIS responsibility.  He checked off on his missiles and waited impatiently.

"Sound off by the numbers," Hobbes' voice came over the comm, strong and reassuring.

"O'Muirdagh, check."  The lights of the launch bay gleamed on the massive locked down at the shoulder of his heavily modified Field Sergeant e-frame.

"O'Connor, check." 

"Vouriot, check."  The med-tech swiped a careless salute with his e-frame.

"Montgomery, check." 

"Morris, check."

"Alright, people, let's launch."

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	3. Chapter 2

Beneath the Face of Saturn:  Chapter 2

"Gamma Squad launching now, Captain," Ensign Will Hagen reported.  He watched his screens intently, verifying the successful launch of each member of the squad.   "Gamma squad away, sir."

"Thank you, Ensign," Captain Henry answered.  "Commander, status?"

"All departments ready, sir.  Main guns standing by."  Commander Xanatos grinned.  "Let's give 'em hell, Captain."

"Acknowledged, Commander," Captain Henry replied with a slight smile.  "Ensign Hagen, take us down to high orbit."

"Aye, Captain."

The Normandy's thrusters kicked in and eased the frigate down toward Enceladus.  

"Keep us even with the rest of the fleet, Helm," Capt. Henry ordered,  "We don't want to make ourselves a nice pretty target."

Will kept one eye on his view of the other ships in the Fleet.  The other watched the altimeter.  The window of opportunity between the altitude at which frigate's long-range guns would become effective and where they would come into range of the pirate guns was very small.  Will wanted to nail it.  He called out distance to target altitude for the helmsman as they slid down toward the surface.

"High orbit, Captain," Will reported as the Normandy settled into the narrow margin of safety.

"Orders, Captain?"  Commander Xanatos asked.

"Main guns, fire at will," Captain Henry said.  "Make it count and watch your targets.  We've got friendlies down there."

Will could feel the thrum of the main guns through the deck.  He scanned for new targets and fed in the coordinates to the targeting computers, keeping a careful eye on the blips representing the jumptroops.  He listened to the comm traffic at the surface through the tiny link nestled in his right ear.  He gave priority to those installations giving the platoons the most grief, saving the lulls in the battle below to target the more peripheral turrets.

"This is Sierra-Three," one of the many voices called in his ear, "Taking heavy fire from a couple of hostiles at coordinates N 38.33.30 dash W 122.38.15  Please advise."

"Roger that," answered Morris, one of the e-frame pilots.  "I have them in sight.  Hang tight and I'll see what I can do."

"Acknowledged," came the reply.  "Sooner rather than later if you please."

"Orders from the _Resolute_, Captain.  Captain Marcus is ordering the fleet to move to low orbit and continue the assault with all batteries, sir."

"Status report on those enemy installations, Ensign Hagen?"

Will quickly checked his scanners.  "We're showing more than 90% destroyed, Captain.  No sign of other hostiles, sir."

"Take her down, Ensign," Henry ordered.  "Bring auxiliary weapons on-line."

"Aye, Captain."

The _Normandy_ and the rest of the Exo-Fleet maneuvered closer to the moon Enceladus.  Craters pock-marked its surface, some ancient, and some only minutes old.  The smoking ruins of gunnery installations were visible by photoimagery.  The Fleet began to pound the moon's surface as the jumptroops pulled back into tight little clusters.

Suddenly Will saw a flash of red on his console.  His blood ran cold.

"Captain!" he called out, "We've been targeted by multiple hostiles."  His fingers flew as he scanned the surface.  "Hidden ground batteries, sir.  Both SAM's and pulse weapons."  Captain Henry leapt for the comm to confirm.  "They've locked and are firing, sir."

"They're too well-protected to target with just the long-range weapons,"  Captain Henry noted.  "This is going to be a slugfest, ladies and gentlemen."

"All hands, brace for impact," Xanatos ordered over the ship-wide intercom.

The frigate rocked as they were hit with a glancing blow by one of the blast cannons.  The ship listed hard to starboard, its stern thrown upward by the force.

"Stabilize," the captain ordered.  "Keep a lock on those targets."

"Thrusters off-line, sir."

"Engineering, this is the captain."  Henry opened the comlink to engineering.  "Get those thrusters back on-line.  We sitting ducks here."

"Aye, Captain," came the reply.  "We're on it."

-----------------------------

Down in engineering Lieutenant Amy Hiatt sighed in exasperation and turned away from the console.  Grease smudged her cheek and she brushed back a lock of shoulder length brown hair with a dirty hand.  She took a quick survey of the engine room.  Her staff was working as fast as they could to reroute thruster control where it had been severed close to engineering.  Several worked on rewiring the physical connections while others worked on getting the computer to recognize the new pathways.

Amy dropped to her knees and wriggled in next to Ensign Peter Watts, repositioning his light so that the beam was focused on the rewiring he was working on.

"Thanks," he grunted.  Amy handed him the wirecutters and told herself she didn't _really_ need to do all the repairs herself.  Sometimes delegating was the hardest part of being the Chief Engineer.  

"How long?" she asked.  Peter paused and turned to look at her.  

"It's all melted together back there, Lieutenant."  He reached in deeper and pulled on a mass of wires so that she could see.  "I've got to get this teased out and then rewire it."

Amy looked at the mess a minute, pursing her lips thoughtfully.  "You know," she said, "If you bypass just the A-Five, A-Eleven, C-Six, and D-Five relays, we can get the dorsal port aft thrusters on line.  That way the captain can get us leveled out and we can work on giving him the rest of the variable aft thrusters after getting those cleared out.  The bow thrusters are gone for a while, I think."

Peter looked closely at the wiring, running it through in his mind.  "Yeah, I got it," he said, grabbing the wirecutters again.  Amy grinned and tapped him on the shoulder as she wriggled out of the crawlspace.

"Let me know if you need any help," she told him.

-------------------------------------

"I need some help over here!" Unholy bellowed down on the moon's surface.  The jumptrooper knelt at his fallen comrade's side, covering her while keeping an eye peeled for any movement.  He swung his blast rifle around as he scanned, his finger poised on the trigger.  With his free hand he worked at loosening the straps of Montrose's jumppack.  

"On my way," Captain Jose's voice sounded in his helmet.  Unholy glanced back over his shoulder and saw the captain's compactly muscular form bounding toward him, staying low to the terrain.  The jumppack on his back blazed with each jump, aiding his low leaps across the surface.  Combined with Enceladus' gravity of less than one-fourth earth-norm, the jumppack enabled Tom Jose to cover tens of meters at a time.  Soon he was kneeling down with Unholy.

"Sierra-Three right flank, check your spacing to cover us," Tom ordered over their platoon channel.  "Hold your positions."  Tom reached down and pulled the straps back over Olivia's body.  Her environment suit and lightweight body armor were scorched but didn't appear to be compromised.  "What happened?" he asked.

"Got hit square by a blaster," Unholy told him.  "She was laying down suppression fire for me.  Her helmet checks out, and she's breathing.  I think her suit's intact."

"Yeah," Tom said.  "Alright.  Crow?" 

"Yes, sir?" 

"We're not getting anywhere here without air support.  Start pulling over this direction," Tom said.  "Montrose is down and we've got a hole."  He checked his hand-held scanner.  "You guys gather up and concentrate on that ridge to the north.  It's got Baker-Two pinned down and it looks like the E-frames are too busy trying to take out the big guns.  Get those guys out of there and we'll firm up with them.  I'll be with you in a sec."

"Roger that, Captain."

Tom and Unholy rolled Olivia off her pack, sliding it out from underneath her body.  Crow held her on her side while Tom pulled out the collapsible litter and let it unfold.  They rolled her onto it, careful to hold her head and neck stable with her shoulders.  Then they wrapped her up tightly and sealed the plastic cover over her body, helping to protect her from the moon's low-pressure atmosphere in the event of a slow leak in her suit.

An explosion rocked the ridge to the north, the pressure wave hitting them moments later.

"Sierra-Three, report!"  Tom yelled.  

"The fusion pack on that gun battery blew," Crow reported.  "We were under cover but Baker-Two was pretty close."  Tom and Unholy could hear him grunting as he scaled the ridge to take a look-see.  "We've got multiple wounded, Captain," he reported.  "I repeat, multiple wounded."

"How bad, Crow?"  Tom asked, tonguing his comm to their private channel.

"Real bad,"  Crow's voice was grim.

"What the hell happened?"  Tom and Unholy worked quickly to get Olivia secured for transport.  Taking advantage of the low gravity, Unholy tucked her under one arm and grabbed his blaster.  Tom covered him as they started moving toward the ridge.

"Looks like probably a faulty pack casing," Crow said.  "It took a couple of hits but nothing that should have caused a breach." Tom reached the base of the ridge and made sure the rest of the platoon was secure before climbing up the embankment.  He knelt down next to his XO.

"Jesus," he breathed.  Bodies lay strewn across the rocky terrain beyond the rim of a glowing red crater.  Some of them moved.  Others didn't.

Crow showed him his radiation indicator.  "Pretty hot, Captain.  Even with the radiation shielding in the suits I'd say we've got about fifteen minutes to clear this area."

"Normandy, this is Sierra-Three," he called over the ship channel.  "I've got multiple wounded here in a fusion pack explosion.  We're evacuating now.  Mission aborted.  I repeat, mission aborted." 

"Roger that, Sierra Three.  Please advise."

Tom pulled out his map and scanned it.   "Here," he said, pointing it out to Crow.  "We can rendezvous with the shuttle at these coordinates.  We can get everybody at least to the next ridge in fifteen minutes if we make two trips.  Then it's only about another ten to get them to that flat area where the shuttle can land."  Crow nodded in agreement.

"Alright, then.  Normandy, this is Sierra-Three," he called.  "Send an evac shuttle to the following coordinates, N36.25.30 dash W110.38.16.  Rendezvous in twenty-five minutes.  Better send additional medical personnel.  We've got more than we can handle here."

"Roger that, Sierra Three.  Evac shuttle en route."

"Alright, troops," Tom Jose said grimly.  "Let's get these guys out of here.  We don't leave a man behind."

The rest of Sierra Three scaled the ridge and poured over into the crater.  Rapidly they assessed who was alive and who wasn't.  The bodies they threw into a pile on top of large litters that could be carried by four people in this low gravity.  The injured were packed up according to how bad their environment suit was damaged.  Those who could move were steadied in flight over to the next ridge.  It made Tom nervous to have them hanging over the horizon like that, easy targets, but it was the fastest and easiest way to move them.

Unholy slung his blaster rifle over his shoulder and scooped up Olivia and one of the Baker-Two troopers.  Jets blasting, he rapidly spanned the distance to the next ridge.  He wondered how many of the wounded would die in the next twenty-five minutes.  Not that they would leave any of the bodies.  Jumptroops never left a man behind.  On their horse or on a shield, every last man and woman made it home to their families.  Unholy just hoped there were more alive than dead when that evac shuttle reached them.

---------------------------

            "Lt. Rhodes," James Little stuck his head through the door to the surgical suite, holding a mask over his face.

            "There it is…" Karen used the tiny vacuum suction to keep the depths of the wound visible for her cohort, Dr. Vela.  "Can you get it, Rafael?"  With her other hand she retracted the tissue back just a bit more, careful to stay out of his way as he went deep to try and grab the piece of shrapnel.

            "Got it," he said.  "Hang on."  His brown eyes looked up toward the ceiling while he concentrated on holding the slippery metal in the forceps of his medical glove.  He breathed a sigh of relief when he dropped it into the basin along with all the other wicked little pieces.  "Thanks."

            "Lt. Rhodes?"  James repeated.

            "Yeah, James.  What's up?"  Karen rolled her neck around, feeling the strain of such painstaking work.  The gloves were good at locating the general location of a fragment, but they still had to be eyeballed to be removed.

            "It's the bridge, ma'am," the big nurse said.  "There's been a fusion pack explosion on the surface and they're requesting additional medical personnel to go with the evac shuttle."

            "What's triage like right now?"  she asked.  

            "Nothing that can't wait.  Just some minor lacs and fractures."

            "Go ahead, Karen," Rafael said.  "Nothing else is showing up on scan and I can have this closed in a few minutes with Rosie's help.  Right, Rosie?"

            "Sure, Dr. Vela."  

            "You sure, Rafael?"  Karen asked.  Her heart beat fast in anticipation of being that close to a real battle.

            "Go on," he said.  "Rosie and I make beautiful music together.  Right, Rosie?" the handsome doctor wriggled his eyebrows at the battleaxe scrub nurse.

            "Sure, Dr. Vela."  Her voice was dry as a bone.  "Except when you go flat."

            "All right, then," Karen said, stepping back from the table.  Outside she took off her medical glove and started it through sterilization while she stripped off the barrier gloves and surgical clothing.  She put them in the recycler where they would be broken down into their component materials, sterilized, and reconstituted.

            She grabbed her glove and slipped it back on as she walked swiftly out to the main sick bay.  She glanced around as she started grabbing some supplies and adding them to the basics in her bag.  A couple of patients, but nothing Rafael would need help with.  He'd be all right, as long as there wasn't another bad hit like the fusion pack explosion.  

            "Let's go, James," she said.  He nodded and slung his own pack over his shoulders.  Karen noticed the blaster strapped to his leg and looked up at him with an arched brow.

            "Just in case," he said.  Together they trotted down the corridor toward the launch bay. 

            "There you are."  One of the many people bustling around the evac shuttle turned and tossed a couple of environment suits at them.  "Here, put these on," he said.  "And we're not going to be pressurized on the first leg of this run so you might want to grab some helmets on the way.  Move it, we're on a time-table."

            Karen slipped on the protective gear, checking the battery pack that supplied the suit's thermoregulatory and air circulation systems.  She and James helped each other seal their helmets and she felt a thin layer of air spring to life in her suit.

            "Right this way, ma'am," the man said, gesturing them toward the open doors of the shuttle.  "Watch your step." He made them both pause while he checked their seals, and then led them inside.

            "Stow your gear there, and have a seat."  Karen slipped her bag into the holding bin and sat gingerly down on one of the padded bucket seats that lined the bulkhead.  

            "I'm co-pilot and gunner Lt. (jg) Gerald and that's our pilot Lt. Wilson over there," he gestured toward another young man climbing up into the cockpit.  "We're both licensed med-techs as well."  Wilson waved at her and grinned. 

            "Get ready for the ride of your life," he called down to them.

            Karen felt a sinking sensation.  She smiled weakly at him, then gasped as Lt. Gerald pulled the harness straps tight over her body.

            "Sorry, ma'am," he said, "but you'll be glad for it once we start evasive maneuvers.  When we land, pull these releases here, here, and here to remove the harness."  He pointed out the releases to her and she studied them a moment, making sure she knew what to pull where.  He slapped the top of her helmet lightly.  "Good to go?"

            Karen nodded and concentrated on her breathing.  She looked around the shuttle while Lt. Gerald repeated the process for James.  The cockpit was elevated up, on top of the bulk of the powerpack for the main guns located beneath the shuttle's nose.  The rest of the shuttle was lined with crash seats, each equipped with a harness.  Studs dotted the spacious empty area in the middle of the deck.

            "What are those for?" she asked.   Gerald glanced over his shoulder as he gave a last tug to James' harness.  

            "That's what we use to strap down the litters," he said.  He slapped James on his helmet.  "Good to go?"  James grinned and nodded.

            "Let's rock and roll," he said, jumping up into the cockpit and strapping in.  Wilson gunned the engines and the shuttle began to vibrate with power.  Karen felt her ears popping and her suit fill slightly as the launch bay depressurized.  She couldn't see it, but she could imagine the hanger bay doors opening before them.

            She felt the deeper throb as Wilson lifted the shuttle off its landing gear and eased it out of the hanger.  She swallowed and swallowed as they left the artificial gravity field generated by the Normandy.

            "Hang on back there," Wilson's voice was transmitted through the comlink in their helmets.  "It's about to get fun."

            Karen felt herself thrown against the harness as the shuttle leapt forward.  She began to have serious second thoughts about the wisdom of going on this mission.

------------------------------

            "I'm having second thoughts about this." Tom Jose stood with his XO and looked out over the moonscape before them.  "It's too open, too quiet."  The rocky surface stretched out before them, its harsh whiteness softened by the night.  Ambient starlight illuminated the terrain somewhat, augmented by the computerized enhancement provided by their battle helmets.

            Crow looked around, scanning for any signs of pirate activity.  Behind them the rest of the Sierra-Three platoon stood guard over their fallen comrades from Baker-Two.  A few of the Baker-Two jumptroopers were helping stand guard despite their injuries, but many had more serious problems.  Then there were the litters of dead.

            "I don't see anything, Captain," Crow said.  

            "They're there," Tom replied.  "I can feel it."  He turned back to the platoon.  "Preston, you and Ramirez take the wash to the west.  Dagger and Unholy, take the east.  See if you can sniff out any pirate stench." 

            "You got it," Robert said.  He and Fred Ramirez slipped silently out of camp, using their jumppacks very sparingly.  Fred followed the corporal down into the wash, keeping one eye on the terrain and one on his scanner.  With an ambient temperature of about -200 C, the moonscape appeared deepest blue.  Fred could see an eerie red ghostly image following Robert as his body warmed the air immediately surrounding him.  He could also follow a faint trail of footsteps back the way they came, fading rapidly in the cold.

            Leon, more commonly known as Unholy, picked his way carefully down the ridge to the east.  Behind him Dirk Dagger was using the motion detector and infrared scanner to look for pirates.  Leon's surgically altered eyes were widely dilated, doing their best to make up for allowing less light to penetrate the iris.  His enhancement served him better in flash conditions, when he was less likely to be momentarily blinded by bright lights than non-altered humans.  Fortunately he had learned to compensate for his disadvantage in low-light situations by relying more on his other senses.

            "Unholy," Dirk whispered in his ear.  Leon found it amusing how people always whispered when they were trying to be quiet, despite private comm channels and the fact that their voices couldn't be heard more than a few inches outside their helmets in this low atmosphere.

            "I've got something on infrared."  Leon stopped and backed up next to Dirk where he stood intently reading the scanner.  "Over there, about 10 o'clock."

            Leon looked at the scanner, noting the faint red smudge tainting a rock surface.  He glanced up at the rock itself.  He snapped his binocular lenses down into place but couldn't see anything.  "Still there?" he asked.

            "Yeah, but it's fading."

            "Alright, so somebody's been in the area with a heat source and put it down on that rock.  Not too long ago, too."  He keyed into the officer's channel.  "Captain, we have possible hostiles in the area, about half a klick to the northeast from your position."

            "Preston, are you and Ramirez picking anything up?"  Tom asked.

            "No, sir.  Clean as a whistle over here.  No sign of nothin' except us."

            "Then go ahead, but keep your asses down and your eyes peeled."

            "Roger that, Captain."

            "Sierra-Three, this is the evac shuttle _Glory_.  Closing in on your coordinates with additional medical personnel on board.  ETA three minutes."

            "Good to hear your sweet voice, _Glory_,"  Tom said.  "Be advised that there are possible hostiles in the area.  Proceed with caution."

            "Acknowledged.  _Glory_ out."

            "Should we start moving the wounded, Captain?"  Crow asked.  "Or stay here in better position in case of attack?"

            Tom stared out over the rocky area below them.  "Well, the shuttle sure as hell won't be able to pick 'em up here.  Let's get 'em going, but I want everybody to have at least one hand free at all times.  We'll make as many trips as we have to."

            "Yes, sir."  While Crow began rounding up the troops Tom watched the night sky, and finally saw the rapidly growing smudge on the starfield that was the evac shuttle.  As he watched he saw the braking engines fire, slowing the shuttle's full-tilt run for the moon's surface.  From the length of time they blazed, Tom figured the pilot had to be redlining the g-forces.  He hoped the guy got them off this rock just as fast.

             The shuttle pilot played a good game of chicken, too, pulling up at just the last moment.  He settled the vessel down on the surface with something less than a crash but more than a thud.  The first wave of jumptroops was moving down off the ridge toward the shuttle when all hell broke loose.

            Blaster fire erupted all around them, shooting wild all over the place.  The ground was rocked by a concussion as a grenade went off somewhere.  Jumptroopers scrambled for cover, trying to locate their attackers.  Tom crouched down behind a rock, trying to get a fix on the larger blast cannon that was tearing up the rockfield around them.

            "Sound off, troops, and give me your status," Tom called out over the platoon channel.  

            "Mengele here.  I've got Hernandez and Watson with me, both out cold.  Can't see much from here."

            "Unholy and Dagger here.  We're both uninjured, and I don't think they know we're here, sir."

            "Roger that, Unholy," Tom said.  "Maintain your position for now, but see if you can help us locate the shooters.  Next."

             "Henderson, sir.  I'm alright, and I think I can get a path to that blast cannon."

"Go for it," Tom answered, "but keep your tail down, mister.  Don't be a hero."

"Aye, sir."

"Preston, where are you and Fred at?"

"Maintaining our last position, sir.  Fred and I are okay.  Had a scare with some rocks when that grenade went off, but otherwise we don't appear to be targeted."

            The rest of the squad sounded off in order, with the exception of a few ominous silences.  Blaster fire continued unabated around them, kicking up dust and small rocks and obscuring the area with haze.  The jumptroops tried to shoot off a few rounds in defense, but after about five minutes Tom ordered them to stop when it became apparent they had no visible targets.

            "What's your status, Henderson?"  Tom asked.

            "Almost there, Captain," Will Henderson's voice was muffled, and Tom could here him grunting slightly as he slid along in a low crawl toward the cannon.  "No resistance yet, sir."

            Tom's mind raced furiously as he huddled down behind his cover.  Something was wrong with the situation.  Besides the fact they were under heavy fire.

            "Captain, it's Henderson."

            "Go ahead."

            "I've reached the cannon, sir.  There's nobody here.  It's just blasting away on it's own.  Can I go see if I can turn it off?

            "Watch out for booby traps, Henderson."

            "Yes, sir."

            It seemed forever before the blast cannon ceased firing.  Since it wasn't accompanied by an explosion, Tom figured Henderson had avoided any booby traps.

            "Henderson, sir.  Looks like it was set on automatic with a variable firing pattern.  It's jury-rigged six ways from Sunday and running off an old battery pack.  Would have run out of juice in about another ten minutes anyway."

            Tom cursed.  Light blaster fire continued to pepper the ground around them.

            "Alright, let's identify the rest of those blasters and disarm them.  Approach with caution and for God's sake watch for booby traps."      

            "I don't get it, sir?  What's going on?"  Henderson asked.

            "It was a distraction, Private.  The pirates aren't even here."

            "Then where are they, Captain?"

            Tom looked over at the evac shuttle.  "You don't want to know, son."

---------------------------------


	4. Chapter 3

Beneath the Face of Saturn:  Chapter 3

            "Are you alright, Dr. Rhodes?"  James asked.  Karen moved her head just enough to nod.  She kept her eyes fixed on the opposite bulkhead and her head firmly back against the seat, concentrating on quieting her stomach.  It was better now that they were on the ground.  Her inner ear had some semblance of gravity to tell her which way was up.  She didn't think that she could go through that flight again.  Maybe they should just leave her here on Enceladus.  She could always shack up with the pirates.

            She felt James' big hands pulling at her harness, and then the straps released with a snap.  She blew out another shaky breath and got to her feet unsteadily.  

"Easy there, Doc," James caught her under the elbow as she swayed.  She rested against him for a moment, grateful.  Slowly her equilibrium returned.

"Thanks, James," she said.  "Let's get our stuff ready to go."  He watched her a second longer to be sure she wasn't going to add herself to the injured list, then went and started laying out some of their basic supplies.

"You guys okay back there?"  Lt. Wilson called back.  "Looks like we've got a few minutes.  The jumptroops are still on that ridge over there and it'll take 'em a few minutes to get the first people down.   Lt. Gerald and I are going to stay up here just in case something happens."

"We're okay," Karen said, "but we're not going to be able to do much for anybody until the shuttle's pressurized."

"Let's get everybody on-board first and locked down," Lt. Wilson replied.  "Then depending on the situation at that time we might be able to linger long enough to stabilize some people.  Anything on the scope, Lt. Gerald?"

"Nope, looks like we're the only ones here."

"Alright then," the pilot said, "let's open up the doors and roll out the red carpet."

"I would prefer that you not do that," a voice commanded behind them.  Karen saw James whirl around and draw his blaster.  Before he could fire, he was shot in the shoulder.  

---------------------------------

The blaster fire endangering the jumptroops gradually slowed, then ceased.  Crow Mengele knelt by one of the rifle stands, making sure the power pack was disconnected.  He looked up as Tom Jose joined him.  "Now what?" Crow asked.

Tom straightened and looked over at the evac shuttle.  No movement or communication since it had landed over ten minutes ago.  Tom figured the crew was already dead.  Pirates don't take prisoners.

"We need to get that ship back," he said.  He looked back, where members of the Sierra-Three platoon were checking on their Baker-Two comrades.  "We leave the wounded and mount an assault before they can get the shuttle off the ground."  He glanced down at Crow.  "No matter what, that shuttle doesn't leave unless we're flying her."  Crow nodded.

"Sierra-Three," Crow called out.  "Muster up."

The platoon gathered round as Tom sketched a rough map in the fine powder covering the surface.  "We're here," he pointed, "and the shuttle is here."  A rock was dropped into place to represent the shuttle.  He looked up at the platoon.  "I have reason to believe that the pirates who set this up have taken the evac shuttle."  Nobody said anything and a couple of people nodded.  "We're gonna get it back."

----------------------------

"Hatches closed and locked, Hurral," a dark-haired pirate reported.  "And I've also blocked all communications from this vessel."

"Excellent, Cynan," Hurral said.  He was a big man with red hair and a full beard.  His eyes were as flat and dead as a shark's.  He gestured at the prisoners with his blaster.  "Move over there and kneel with your hands behind your heads." 

The pirate guarding the pilots searched them roughly and forced them to their knees.  Karen did not move, holding her hand over James' torn suit.  

"Did you not hear me, woman?" Hurral spat with irritation.  "Move over there and put your hands behind your head."

"He'll die if I do," she said, shaking her head.  "His suit's torn where you shot him."  

Hurral laughed.  "Then he will die," Hurral told her.  "Now move!"  He gestured again with blaster.

"No," Karen said stubbornly, "not until you've pressurized the shuttle."

"You try my patience," the pirate said angrily.  He moved closer to her, pointing his blaster directly at her face.  "Stand."

Karen shook her head mutinously and remained by the nurse.  The pirate's hand was shaking and the blaster wavered.  Karen held her breath.

The pirate laughed suddenly and lowered his weapon.  "Very well, then," he said.  "Cynan, pressurize this vessel.  I have a desire to see their faces as they die."

--------------------------

"Wonder why they haven't launched yet," Crow said as he crouched with Tom Jose and Robert Preston about 100 meters from the stern of the shuttle.  The rest of the platoon was fanning out while the officers tried to find some vulnerability in the shuttle's defense.

Robert scanned the surrounding area again, then swung back to examine the shuttle.  "No sign of activity at all," he said, "hostile or otherwise."

"Maybe the crew did some damage before they went down," Crow suggested.  He flipped his binoc lenses down and looked closely for any weakness in the shuttle armor they could use to their advantage.

----------------------------

"Let me put him out of his misery," Hurral asked the pilots.  "Give me the access code for the main engine start sequence."  He held James up by the hair.  James groaned and tried weakly to sit up.  Hurral pinned him down by stepping on one of his broken arms and slammed his face against the deck for the fourth time.  His body jerked once, then was still.  Hurral knelt down and check for the pulse in his neck.

"Unconscious," he sneered in disgust.  "He is weak."  Standing, he drew his blaster and shot James in the back of the head where he lay.

"No!"  Karen cried out and rushed at him, but Cynan jumped down from the cockpit and grabbed her around the waist.

"Not so fast, _bychan," he said, swinging her around.  The dark-haired pirate held her tightly as she struggled and pinned her arms in front of her body._

Hurral pointed the blaster at Lt. Wilson.  "Give me the access code," he said, "or die."

"I will die anyway," Lt. Wilson said calmly.  He was pale but determined not to let the small pirate band have the shuttle.

Hurral grinned and leaned in close.  "Ah," he said softly, "but there are many ways to die."  He straightened, and smiled down at the two men.  White teeth flashed in his bushy red beard.  "Cynan, bring me the woman."

"Hurral," the dark-haired pirate began, tightening his grip on Karen's arms.

"Silence, Cynan!  Do you think they would be so gentle if the positions were reversed?  What is one soft-bellied Homeworlder against the fate of our own women and children?"

--------------------------

"See that?" Tom asked Crow fifteen minutes later.  "The aft engine access hatch.  Get in through the main engine crawlspace and you've got access to the ship."  He shrugged.  "Can only get in one at a time, but they may not be expecting it."

"Yeah, I see it," Crow said.  He dialed in for a closer magnification.  "There's something attached to the external controls."  He frowned.  "Looks like somebody else had the same idea and beat us to it."

Tom switched lenses as well.  "Damn," he said.  He was silent a moment.  "I don't see any other way," he said.  "If they're distracted elsewhere we might stand a chance.  Crow, I want you and Preston to take six troopers and get in through that hatch.  I don't care how."

"It may take a little extra time if there's a device," Crow warned.  

"We'll try and give you the time you need," Tom said. 

"Just don't damage the shuttle too badly," Crow grinned.

-----------------------------

Karen knelt in line with the pilots, trying to stifle her sobs.  She couldn't look away from James' body where it lay before her.  Beside her she heard the sound of a blaster fire and a thud as Lt. Gerald's body hit the deck.  Tears mingled with the blood running down Karen's swollen face.  It stung and burned in the cuts on her cheek and split lip.

Out of the corner of her eye Karen saw the dark specter of Death move closer to her, pointing his blaster at Lt. Wilson.  Soon she would be joining them.  This was not how she had envisioned dying, beaten and bruised on some alien moon.  She clasped her fingers tighter behind her neck, trying to stop their trembling.

"Cynan," Hurral called down angrily from the cockpit, "the code does not work!"  Cynan lowered his blaster.  Lt. Wilson closed his eyes with regret.

            "Do you want to use the woman again?" Cynan asked, his face expressionless.  Karen cried out in fear and cowered where she knelt.  She began sobbing uncontrollably.

"No," Hurral growled, "obviously I overestimated the chivalry of the ExoFleet.  Just kill her," he ordered.  "Then do whatever is necessary to get that code!"

            Karen saw the pirate glide toward her.  She looked helplessly up into his face, searching for any sign of mercy there.  It was like looking at a marble statue.  This was it.  No goodbyes.  No chance to tell her father she loved him.  No more new experiences, no more knowledge to savor.  No mate.  No children to bear.  Just like that.  

Suddenly she would do anything to live.  

"No," she begged, "Please."  Cynan raised his blaster.  She noticed inanely that his eyes were deepest brown.  Like chocolate.

"Please, don't kill me," she pleaded.  "I don't want to die!"  She looked up at him, wild-eyed, begging him with everything in her to spare her life.  Death faced her, final and fatal.

The blaster touched her cheek, and slowly traced down along her jaw.  She felt cold metal brush across her lips.  For a moment Karen dared to both hope and fear that he had found a use for her.

"What a waste," he said.  The blaster moved to her forehead.  Karen felt it burning there and squeezed her eyes tightly shut.  She couldn't help the sobs that ripped through her.

"Please," she whispered.  Her eyes flew open.  "Wait!" she cried.  He raised an eyebrow at her.  

"I… I can help you," she stammered.  "I have something.  Something valuable!"  The pirate studied her but did not lower the blaster.  Nor, however, did he pull the trigger.  Hope blazed.

She swallowed hard.  "My hand."  Her voice was harsh and low.  She could barely get the words out, her throat raw from screaming.  

"My left hand," she said, slowly lowering her arms from behind her head.  Carefully she removed the suit's gauntlet, revealing the device engulfing her left arm.  She raised it slowly for him to see.

"What is it?" he asked.  The blaster did not waver from her forehead.

"A… a medical glove," she gasped.  "New technology."  Tears streamed down her face.

He seemed to hesitate.  

"Military technology," she added, and damned herself for a traitor.

---------------------------

"Crow, is your team in place?" Tom asked.  Across the rocky area where the shuttle sat, Tom could see the barest hint of movement as six figures slid carefully down behind an outcropping.

"We're in place," Crow responded.  He took another look at the aft hatch.  "Captain, there's scorch marks around that panel."  He frowned.  "Looks like there may have been some sort of electrical discharge.  I won't be able to tell more until I get my hands on it."

"Roger that, Crow.  On my mark.  Preston, make sure you take out that rear sensor housing.  We don't want them to know Crow's coming."

"Roger, Captain.  Don't worry, Crow, they'll be blind back there and not even know it."

---------------------------

Karen stumbled as Cynan pushed her past a rack of engineering worksuits.  He gestured toward the pirate lying just below the access hatch to the engines.  "Prove your worth," he ordered.  "Heal him."  The blaster was still trained on her.  Karen drew in a shaky breath and dropped to her knees next to the body, activating her glove.

"What happened to him?" she asked, scanning him rapidly.  Her heart sank.

"An electrical surge," Cynan said, watching her closely.  She felt his gaze burning into her, and shivered.

"He's dead.  I'm sorry," she added automatically.  She froze and looked up at him in panic.  "He's been dead for a while, I swear."  Her voice rose with fear and she trembled.

"Hush, _bychan," Cynan said, drawing her up by the elbow.  "I believe you."  He looked closely at her glove, examining it.  After a long while he dropped her arm and moved in close with the blaster, forcing her back against the bulkhead._

"What are you doing?" Karen asked.  The question stuck in her throat.  She wasn't sure the answer mattered to her if it meant staying alive.

"Be silent," he said, forcing her head to the side and brushing her hair aside to look at the neural interface at the base of her skull.

They both stilled when they heard the cruel thud of a blunt weapon on flesh.  Lt. Wilson screamed at the front of the shuttle and they could hear Hurral's laughter.  Karen shuddered and touched her own face lightly.  Her breathing was harsh in the cramped area.

"Don't listen to it," the pirate said roughly.  Karen gave a bark of laughter.

"How can I not?" she asked incredulously.  Hysteria made her voice shrill.  

"Concentrate on something else," he told her, his mouth brushing her neck as he spoke.  He pulled back slightly and forced her to look at him with his hand in her hair.  His face was all harsh angles.  The intensity in his brown eyes held her mesmerized.

----------------------------

"Let's do it by the numbers, people," Tom ordered.  "Now."  Preston took his cue and sighted down the barrel of his rifle at the tiny camera housing mounted beneath the nose of the shuttle with the cannon.  With one shot he took out the sensor array.  Simultaneously Fred Henderson blasted out the forward arrays, purposefully missing the first few shots to distract the pirates in his direction.  Crow's team was almost half-way to the shuttle before Henderson finished firing.

---------------------------- 

Karen's hand slid slowly up the pirate's forearm to grip his biceps.  She felt the hard muzzle of the blaster digging into her ribs and the tug of his hand in her hair.  Activating the glove's surgical laser, she cut deeply into his arm and raked savagely downward.

The pirate gave a cry of pain, and tore his mouth from hers.  His finger spasmed on the trigger and blaster shots went wild as he jerked his arm away from the pain.  Karen grabbed for his wrist, injecting a powerful anesthetic.  The hypospray made only a glancing contact but it was enough to make his hand go numb.  He cursed as the blaster fell from nerveless fingers, then lost his breath in a rush when she kneed him in the groin with a vicious thrust.   She hit him over the back of the head with the hard side of the glove and he went down.

Panting, she stared at his fallen form in disbelief, waiting for him to come up with a roar and kill her.  He didn't move.  She nudged his arm with her foot, then quickly bent to snatch up his blaster.  Slowly she backed away until her heels hit the dead pirate.  Almost tripping, she noticed the open grating to the crawlspace.  A way out.

Up front a single shot rang out.  Karen jumped, holding her hand to her heart in fright.  Lt. Wilson.  She set her jaw and forced herself to think.  She had to do something.  She knew she couldn't ambush the pirates with Cynan's blaster.  She was shaking too badly.  

Blaster shots rocked the shuttle and Karen screamed as something blew, sparks flying everywhere.  The jumptroops!  It had to be.  Karen grasped the ray of hope with all her might.  But the hatches were sealed off and wouldn't be able to be opened due to the pressurization in the shuttle.  Her panicked gaze fell on the rack of engineering worksuits.  Worksuits with helmets.  

Helmets for work without cabin pressurization.  Quickly she grabbed a gauntlet from one of the suits and worked it on over her gloved hand.  Reaching for one of the helmets and sealing it clumsily, she frantically searched the engineering environmental access controls.  Emergency decompression? 

A hard body tackled her from behind.

----------------------------

"Dammit," Crow cursed sharply.  "It won't budge, Captain."

"Did you try the manual override?"  Tom asked.  He ducked as cannon fire from the shuttle raked by him.

"Of course I tried the manual override," Crow said in exasperation.  "Looks like the shuttle cabin is sealed and pressurized.  We'll have to cut the hatch off."

"That's going to take too long, Crow," Tom warned.  "Can you blow it?"

"Not if you want this bucket to fly, Captain."

"Well then you'd better get cutting, I guess," Tom said.  

"Already on it," Crow bit out as he and Henderson grabbed a couple of torches out of their packs.

"Wait a minute," Henderson said.  "Look at that."  Vapor began to vent out around the edges of the hatch.  "What the hell?"

"Get back!" Crow shouted.  He pushed Henderson out of the way as the hatch blew out of its framework.  It went sailing across the rocky landscape, narrowly missing Henderson's head.  Crow was blown backwards by the rush of air whistling out the hatch.

"Crow,"  Tom called.  "The main doors just blew on the shuttle.  We're moving in now.  What's your status?"

"Aft hatch is blown too, Captain," Crow reported.  "Looks like it was done from the inside."

"Roger that,"  Tom said.  "Careful on your way in."

"Acknowledged.  Crow out."

Crow motioned for Unholy to take point.  Leon grinned behind his faceplate and quickly scrambled into the small crawlspace, inching along on his belly in a low crawl.  He held his rifle out in front of him, finger poised on the trigger.  When he reached the end, he launched himself out of the crawlspace and rolled to his feet, swinging his rifle up to cover the small room.  

Debris littered the area, scattered everywhere by the sudden decompression.  Crow was crawling out when Leon detected movement.  He whirled around, bringing his blaster to bear on a rack of environment suits that had been torn down.  Something stirred.

Carefully he crept closer, training his rifle on the person trapped behind the fallen rack.  The person moved awkwardly and disjointedly, and then Leon was close enough to make out a face behind the helmet.  The doctor.  She looked at him with fear in her eyes.  Her lips moved, but Leon wasn't on the right channel to hear her.  He felt Crow nudge him and he moved toward the main cabin to secure the area.

"Crow, report," Tom ordered.

"I've got a live one back here, Captain," he said, pulling the rack off of her.  "Looks like the Medical Officer.  She's been worked over pretty good.  Also one dead pirate."  He began checking her suit for tears. 

"We're all secure up here," Tom said.  "Three decompressed pirates and three dead crewmen.  Crew looks they were tortured before being shot.  No sign of other pirates in the area.  Awfully small group.  They must have planned to catch the shuttle crew off-guard."

"Captain," Robert reported from the cockpit, "I've used the command override to clear the lock-down on the main engine start sequence.  This bird'll be ready to fly in five."

"Roger that," Tom answered.  "Folker and Polnacek help him out.  The rest of you head back and get the casualties."  He looked out over the moonscape.  On the horizon, Saturn was beginning to rise.  

"Let's blow this rock."

-------------------------

Karen tossed and turned in her bed, the sheets winding even tighter around her body until she couldn't breathe.  Desperate, she kicked off all the coverings and sat up painfully, rubbing tears from her eyes.  Suppressing a low moan, she went into the head to splash some cool water on her face.  She looked up and saw her reflection in the small mirror over the sink.

She turned her head this way and that, examining the damage.  Rafael had closed the ugly gashes but nothing except ice would reduce the swelling.  Her left eye was puffing up nicely, she noted with detachment.  In a few days she was going to have more color on her face than on her jumpsuit.  She touched her swollen lip with a finger.  "Chocolate," she said suddenly.

Leaving the head she grabbed her jumpsuit, but her beaten body protested the snug fit.  Instead she managed to get her loose-fitting pajamas back on and wrapped herself up in her robe for good measure.  Slipping her feet into soft fuzzy slippers, she stuck her head out into the hall to check for night owls before leaving her quarters.  She padded down the corridor, pausing only a moment before entering the mess.

She heard soft snoring from one corner of the darkened mess hall.  The night shift cook, taking advantage of the opportunity.  Karen slipped past her softly, taking care not to wake her.  The last thing she wanted was for some crewman to see her wandering around in the middle of the night in her robe and ridiculous fuzzy slippers.  Or to be asking unwanted questions.  Carefully she shut the door to the kitchen, turning on only one small light over a chopping block.

A quick survey revealed the freezing unit.  She fumbled with the latch for a moment before figuring out how to lift up the huge lid of the icebox.  Peering inside, she was discouraged to see a multitude of frozen foodstuffs.  She sighed and leaned in further until most of her upper body was suspended over the rim.  She dug at random through the piles, but didn't see anything that looked hopeful.

"Don't fall in," a deep rough voice warned.  Karen gave a squeak and jerked up, hitting her head on the freezer lid.  Clutching at her robe, she spun around and gasped with pain as her newly mended broken ribs protested.  Cookie stood there, arms folded.  Sweat stained his clothing and a small white towel was slung across his neck.  Karen rubbed her head and tried not to look guilty.

"I was trying to find the ice cream," she told him.  He regarded her without expression for a long moment before turning and opening a huge metal door set in the back wall of the kitchen.  He disappeared inside a moment and Karen debated making a run for it.  Then he reappeared with a tub of chocolate ice cream and set it down with a thud on the chopping block in front of her.  A bowl and a spoon were plopped down in short order.  Karen decided it was self-serve night.

She was grateful for Cookie's silence as she sat at the chopping block and slowly ate the ice cream.  She could feel him studying the marks on her face, but he never said a word.  Finally she set the empty bowl down with a sigh.

"Thank you," she said, not looking at him.  Carefully she eased herself off the stool and took the bowl over to the sink.  

"Think you can sleep now?" he asked.  She wrapped her arms around her body and shot him a wry look.

"No," she answered.  He smiled slightly.

"It'll get better," he told her gruffly.  She looked at him skeptically.  "Not soon, but eventually," he added after a moment's consideration.

Karen wondered what demons kept a man like him awake at night.  She hesitated uncertainly, but that seemed to be the sum total of what he had to say on the subject.  She turned to leave.

"Hey, Doc," he said.  She paused and turned around.  He tossed something small at her.  "For emergencies."  She tried to catch it but it fell through her fingers and dropped to the floor.  Sighing, she bent and picked the small object up.  A chocolate bar.  She smiled and grasped it in her fist.

"Thanks."

--------------------------------------------


	5. Epilogue

Beneath the Face of Saturn:  Epilogue

_______________________________________________________________________

   ****Homeworlds Planetary Defense****

Department of the ExoFleet

_________________________________________________________Official Copy___

From:   Rhodes, Karen H, MD, Lieutenant, SSN # 0-1208 U903-66

Acting Medical Officer, EFS Normandy

To:       Henry, Adrian C., Captain, Commanding Officer, EFS Normandy

CC:      Xanatos, Jonathan, Commander, Executive Officer, EFS Normandy

Subj:    Mission Debriefing - Events surrounding the hostile occupation of the EFS _Glory_ on Enceladus

            Per your instructions, I have recorded my memories of the events leading up to, including, and following the hostile occupation of the EFS _Glory_.  This includes the circumstances surrounding the deaths of Lt. Alan B. Wilson, pilot and mission commander, Lt. (jg) Darren C. Gerald, co-pilot and gunner, and Lt. (jg) James R. Little, RN.

            During the battle with the pirates, a fusion pack explosion injured most of the members of the Baker-Two jumptroop platoon.  Captain Tom Jose of the Sierra-Three platoon requested evacuation and additional medical personnel in light of the multiple serious injuries suffered by the Baker-Two platoon.  I assigned Lt. (jg) Little and myself to the evacuation mission aboard the EFS _Glory_. Our mission objective was to evacuate the jumptroops of the Baker-Two and Sierra-Three platoons off the surface of Enceladus and return to the EFS Normandy.

            The _Glory_ launched from the EFS Normandy at 15:23 and landed at the designated coordinates on Enceladus at 15:41.  While Lt. (jg) Little and myself were unpacking medical equipment, Lt. Wilson prepared to open the bay doors of the shuttle.  They were surprised by the presence of four pirates in the shuttle.  Lt. (jg) Little attempted to draw his sidearm and was shot in the shoulder by the pirate leader, Hurral.   Nobody else attempted resistance at that time.  

            After the pirates pressurized the shuttle the four of us were searched for weapons and forced to kneel with our hands behind our heads under guard.  Hurral's second-in-command, named Cynan, soon discovered that Lt. Wilson or Lt. (jg) Gerald had locked down the shuttle's engines by resetting the main engine start sequence.  Hurral attempted to coerce the pilots into giving him the code by physically assaulting Lt. (jg) Little, executing him, and then continuing with the physical assault on myself.  

The injuries incurred during this interrogation include the following:  concussion, fractured zygomatic arch, fractured 6th, 7th, and 8th ribs, contusions of the liver and left kidney, fractured 4th and 5th phalanges of the right hand, and multiple contusions and lacerations from blunt trauma.  To stop continued assault, Lt. Wilson gave Hurral a code.  The code seemed to allow the pirates into the computer system.  Satisfied they had access to the main engines, Hurral ordered his second-in-command to execute the prisoners with the exception of myself.  During the course of the assault my medical glove had been discovered and its function ascertained.  My life was to be spared so that I might be brought to their base and the medical technology studied and implemented.

After executing Lt. (jg) Gerald it was discovered that the code was false.  Hurral proceeded to assault Lt. Wilson while his second-in-command took me to the back of the shuttle to provide medical care for a fifth pirate, injured during their surreptitious entrance into the shuttle.  This fifth pirate was already dead, apparently from electrical shock.  When the pirate stepped close to me I activated my surgical laser and cut his right arm, then injected 5% kavacaine into his right wrist, numbing his hand.  I kneed him in the groin and hit him over the head.  He appeared to be unconscious, and I confiscated his firearm.

I heard a shot from the front of the shuttle, which I presumed to be Hurral executing Lt. Wilson.  I obtained a helmet from a nearby rack of engineering worksuits.  While attempting to activate emergency decompression I was attacked by the pirate once more, losing control of the blaster.  During the struggle I was able to hit the emergency decompression sequence.  In the ensuing decompression I was trapped by the rack of worksuits which fell on me.  The pirate, I assume, somehow escaped the shuttle undetected.  I was discovered by the jumptroops of the Sierra-Three platoon as they secured the shuttle.  One of their troopers overrode the lockdown and after the injured and dead were loaded onboard and secured, we launched and returned to the EFS _Normandy_.

I later learned from the jumptroops that it appeared the pirates had gained access to the shuttle through manipulation of the aft hatch, at which time one of the five pirates was killed.  During the successful jumptroop assault three pirates were killed by blaster fire.  The bodies of Lt. Wilson, Lt. (jg) Gerald, and Lt. (jg) Little were found, all killed by a single blaster shot to the head.  The whereabouts of the fifth pirate are unknown.

I hereby attest under oath to the accuracy and veracity of these events.

Lt. Karen H. Rhodes, MD

                                                                                                Acting Medical Officer

                                                                                                EFS _Normandy_

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Personal Log, Lt. Karen Rhodes, MD  

Time: 23:44

After a day like this, where do I start?  I guess the best place is at the beginning…

This morning I reviewed my report with the Board, which consisted of Captain Henry, Commander Xanatos, and Lt. Commander O'Bannon.  They had no idea what kind of coward stood before them.  I lied of course.  Lies of omission.  Of deflection.  I was shaking so hard they asked if I would like to sit.  Lt. Commander O'Bannon was particularly solicitous.  

They thought I was shaking because of the remembered trauma.  I guess that was part of it, yes, but mostly I was shaking because I was irrevocably condemning myself to a lifetime of lies.  Even if nobody ever finds out what really happened on Enceladus, I will still know.  I can hardly look any of them in the eye.  Not the captain or the XO, or O'Bannon, who has had as much honor and glory as any other.  Heck, I can barely even look at Cookie, who lost an entire limb but keeps coming back for more. 

Rafael told me yesterday they should give me a medal for being wounded in combat.  Hah!  They should stand me against the bulkhead and shoot.

After I finished covering up my cowardice and treason for all posterity, I came back to my quarters and threw up for ten minutes.  That was the high point of my day today.

I didn't kill anybody today in sick bay (always a bonus), but we were all missing James.  I don't think I really appreciated what a good guy he was.  Hard-working, and a great nurse, but I didn't think about his ever-present friendly smile until it was gone.  That's very sad.  As the only survivor of the _Glory_, and as his supposed superior officer (yeah, right), I sat down today to write a letter to his parents.  It was one of the most difficult things I have ever done.  I found out he has a brother named John over on the Carthage.  (John Little.  Go figure.)  I'm going to have to talk to him over the comm tomorrow, if I can.  If it still matters.

Just to twist the knife a bit, I also wrote letters to the families of Lts. Wilson and Gerald.  I couldn't say much about them as men, except that they both died bravely.  More than I can say about myself.

After my shift ended, I came back to my quarters and started on my resignation.  I finally figured out that ExoFleet isn't for me.  I hate the military lifestyle, the constant roller coaster of stress and boredom, and most of all I hate knowing the fact that gravity could cut out at any moment.  I only wish that I'd had this revelation four months ago when I signed on the dotted line.  I endanger everybody by being here.  What if I'm taken again?  What will I offer my captors next time?

Well, all that has changed.  My letter of resignation was interrupted by our arrival at Tethys, the main pirate base.  I went to sick bay - at least I can do something decent there, but we had no casualties.  At least, not here.  I was reporting our status to Commander Xanatos when the call came through from Earth.  He forgot to turn off the link.  I will never forget.

The Neosapiens have taken the Homeworlds.  Not like the gut-driven, bare-handed revolt of fifty years ago.  No, this was well-armed and well-planned.  Phaeton, the Neosapien Governor of Mars, has swiftly and ruthlessly overwhelmed what military forces were left on Earth.  I can only imagine what it must have been like for the civilian populace.  Fifty years ago the Neosapiens revolted against their virtual slavery, but that revolt was mainly confined to Venus and Mars.  This time, Earth is right at the center.

Even now the _Normandy_ is speeding toward Earth at full thrust.  Unfortunately, each hour we lag further and further behind the ExoCarriers, who can eke an additional 20% more thrust out of their engine reactors.  By the time we reach Earth tomorrow, the battle will be over.  Either we will mop up, or we will be throwing ourselves into the jaws of the Neosapien fleet they have been building in secret for fifty years, rumored to be twice as large as our own at full strength.

Nobody is saying much about it here on the _Normandy_, but tempers are running hot.  Since 16:00 today I've been called to sick bay five times to patch up brawlers.  I guess everybody has to let off steam somehow.  

As for me, I decided this was as close to an emergency as you can get.  I ate that chocolate bar at 21:15.  I'm off to bed now, at least until they call me with the next round of fights.

                                                                                                Lt. Karen Rhodes, MD

Addendum:  I wonder what has become of my father. Deep inside, I think I know he's dead.  My father is no coward.   KHR

-----------------------End Log------------------------


End file.
